


Lost and Found

by jehanjoly (orphan_account)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Being Lost, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:10:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/jehanjoly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A response to this prompt on tumblr from maraschinocheri: "If you do want to still consider prompts, I'd love to see what you'd do with Joly getting lost somewhere in a city--any city--quite late at night (enough that tiredness is hitting him along with the confusion) and Prouvaire tracking him down, and talking him down, too, a bit, when he really sees how unnerved Joly had become."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

Joly had no sense of direction.

It was a gift he hadn’t been born with; he could read an MRI or an X-ray, but maps always eluded him. And wherever he was – it could be a city, it could be the middle of a cornfield – he had no idea where he had come from or which way he should go next. His friends would tease him about it constantly, recalling the time he’d ended up in Concord, New Hampshire instead of Concord, Massachusetts when he’d blindly followed the GPS in the car. (“Didn’t you notice the ‘Welcome to New Hampshire’ sign?” Enjolras had asked, miffed that Joly had ended up missing his impromptu oration on liberty on Old North Bridge.)

So when Combeferre and Feuilly announced that they were having an engagement party at an Italian restaurant in the North End, Joly assumed he would tag along with his boyfriend Jehan, or with one of their other friends, so he wouldn’t have to navigate the dark and narrow streets of the neighborhood himself.

But on the night of the party, he found himself stuck at the hospital, tending a nervous pregnant woman who had come into the emergency room complaining of bleeding and worrying that a miscarriage was imminent. He took his time, as he always did, holding her hand while he reassured her that her baby was still okay, and calling her husband to come pick her up when she seemed too shaken to drive herself.

The result was that he didn’t leave the hospital until after 7:30 pm – too late to meet up with Jehan, who had left their apartment an hour earlier to pick up flowers and decorations. He texted Courfeyrac, figuring he was his best chance for possible travel companion — knowing that Courf was always the last to arrive at any event. His text went unanswered, which didn’t entirely surprise Joly – he often suspected Courf was still angry about how Jehan had left him to start dating Joly.

So Joly would have to find the restaurant himself, just as darkness was falling over the city.

He rode the Green Line from Longwood to Government Center, where he followed the tourists off the train, through City Hall Plaza and over to Quincy Market. He knew enough to walk through the cobblestone streets of the marketplace, and then cross the Greenway to get to the North End. The North End was small, he assured himself as he threaded his way through the collection of street vendors and portrait artists to reach the Italian neighborhood. How many restaurants could there be?

As it turned out there were plenty, as Joly discovered as he made his way through the dark streets, lit only by purposely dim streetlamps. He paused and reached into his jeans pocket for the slip of paper with the name of the restaurant so he could look up the address on his phone – but he only came up with a couple of used tissues.

Shit, he thought. He pulled his phone out of his other pocket and quickly texted Jehan to ask him where the party was being held.

While he waited for Jehan’s reply, Joly started wandering the crooked streets, peering into each restaurant in search of some familiar faces – to no avail. With every turn, he got further and further away from familiar territory, and he could feel his heart rate rising with each passing minute. He kept his phone in his hand, waiting for the familiar vibration that indicated an incoming text.

Joly’s phone was silent.

And his heart was in his stomach.

Finally he stopped again and started scrolling through his contacts, anxiously trying to figure out who he could try to contact. He couldn’t pull Ferre and Feuilly away from their party; he knew Enjolras would turn red with anger at him; Bossuet almost never remembered to bring his phone; and Bahorel had smashed his last night in a fit of rage over iOS7. Courf was already ignoring him — or at least that’s what he thought.

That left one option: Grantaire.

At least Grantaire wouldn’t laugh at him, Joly thought as he typed out a message: “Where are you? Completely lost.”

When the phone rang a minute later, he almost jumped out of his skin. He peered at the phone – it was Grantaire’s number. Joly heaved a sigh of relief and answered the phone. “R, I’m sorry, I hate to bother you—“

“Joly?” It was Jehan. “Where are you?”

Joly almost wanted to cry when he heard his boyfriend’s voice. “I don’t know,” he said petulantly. “I forgot to bring the name of the restaurant, and you didn’t answer my text—“

“I just noticed my phone is dead,” Jehan explained. Joly could hear the voices of his friends in the background. “We’re at Lucca, on Hanover Street.”

“But I don’t know how to get there,” Joly said. He knew it came out like whining, but he was too worked up to care.

“Where are you now?” Jehan asked.

Joly looked around him, trying to find a landmark, a street sign. “I’m at—wait a minute.” He looked up and saw a familiar church steeple. “Old North Church. I’m at the church.”

“Stay where you are, Jols,” Jehan said. “I’ll come find you.” He hung up the phone.

Joly felt as if a huge weight had been pulled off of him. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to breathe normally. His hands were clammy, and he could feel the sweat on his brow.

“Joly!” Joly looked up to see Jehan running across the street toward him. “Joly, are you okay?” Jehan came over to him and took him into his arms. Joly let out a small whimper as Jehan stroked his back.

“I thought I knew where I was going, and I knew I could use my Google maps app, but then I couldn’t find the name of the restaurant, and I started walking, and then I texted you and—“Joly’s words came out like a torrent.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jehan said, reaching up to push Joly’s hair out of his face. “It’s my fault – I should have noticed my phone was dead, I should have made plans with you to meet up somewhere so we could go together—“ Jehan trailed off.

“No, no, Jehan, it’s not your fault,” Joly said reassuringly. “It’s my fault for being such an idiot.”

“You are not an idiot,” Jehan said, hugging him tighter. “It’s just one of the quirks I love about you.”

Joly pulled back so he could look at Jehan. “That you love about me?” Surprisingly, Jehan had never said the L-word to Joly in the short time they’d been together.

“Oh, Joly — How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,” Jehan said, stroking Joly’s cheek. “ I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach—“

Joly interrupted Jehan’s poetry recitation by kissing him deeply – his anxiety overshadowed by Jehan’s declaration of love.

“I love you, Prouvaire,” Joly declared, when they came up for breath. “Without you I would be lost.”

Jehan kissed him lightly on the nose. “Consider yourself found.”


End file.
